


Ice Bar

by icybluepenguin



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Bar, Bartender - Freeform, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, Smut, ice bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:51:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2904935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icybluepenguin/pseuds/icybluepenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You visit an ice bar with a steaming hot bartender.  He gives you a special shot to warm you up and then things REALLY heat up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Bar

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of a secret Santa fic exchange on Tumblr. My giftee requested Loki as a bartender at an ice bar and I tried to deliver :)

"This bar freezing!"

You look at your friend in annoyance.  “Are you serious, Haley?  It’s an  _ice bar_.  One you wanted to go to, I might add.”  You were shivering a little yourself, your thin jeans and high boots apparently not at all suited for an ice bar even with a long winter coat on top.  “Of course it’s cold, they keep it at, like, 5 below in here.”

The bar was cold, but it is beautiful.  Nearly everything is made from clear, shining ice.  Blue, white, and purple lights shone up from the floor through the furniture, creating a mystical, mysterious- and frigid- atmosphere.  Even the actual bar is transparent, colorful bottles of liquor lined up neatly behind a wall of ice.

 

And standing behind the bar, stirring something something in something in a tall silver shaker, is the hottest bartender you’ve ever seen.  He is tall and lean, with long raven hair brushing his shoulders.  His black vest and green tie contrast with his pale skin and your eyes are drawn to his long fingers deftly twisting the glass rod in the shaker.  You can’t believe that he has his sleeves rolled up in this temperature, but they are- crisply folded up above his elbows, revealing tautly muscled forearms.

You swallow, feeling guilty for staring, but you can’t help it.  He’s incredibly sexy, moving through the steps of making a drink like it were a dance, each movement precise but flowing effortlessly into the next.  He produces a skewer from his vest pocket, spearing a piece of fruit from a nearby bowl and placing it in the glass. 

"Hey, I’m going to go hang with this guy," Haley says, pulling your attention away from the bartender.  She’s clinging to the arm of some hipster guy, who has clearly realized he was going to get lucky tonight.

You roll your eyes.  “Sure, Haley.  See you later,” you grumble.  She begs to come here and then abandons you for a guy within minutes of entering.  Typical.  You head over to the far end of the bar, tucking yourself onto the last barstool, glad it isn’t made of ice like the “couches” lining the sides of the room.

"You look cold."

You jump a little, surprised.  You had been looking at the couches, trying to decide how frigid and uncomfortable they would be, even if they did have fake fur rugs on them.

"Oh!  Hi.  Yeah, I’m a bit chilly," you stumble over your words, huddling a little farther into your coat.  The hot bartender is leaning towards you, his hands braced on the ice countertop.  You wonder how he is not stuck to it like a tongue to a telephone pole, but then you notice his fingers again.  Long, slender, carefully manicured.  They look strong and you wonder if he knows how to use them for something other than making drinks…

"Let me give you something to warm you up," he offers in a low, husky voice.  "My special."

You shiver and this time it’s not from the cold.  That voice- cultured, dark, edgy- seems to snake right into your brain, winding its way down your spine, pooling below your stomach.

"What’s in it?" you make yourself say, trying to sound casual.  All you want is to hear that voice again though.

He bends down, pulling bottles from below the bar.  He turns a bit and you get a luscious view of his ass, high and sculpted in tight black trousers.  You gulp.  This man is sex on legs.

"Oh… let’s see."  Bottles clank dully on the bar and he talks you through making the drink, almost like he’s telling you a secret, treasured recipe.  "First, ice in the shaker.  Then Yukon Jack whiskey.  Peppermint liqueur.  Equal parts, just like so."  He pours the liquids at the same time, holding the necks of the bottles in one hand between those lovely fingers.  "A splash of Blue Curacao."  He places the lid on the shaker with a flourish.  "Shake and strain."  The now blue drink pours smoothly into a shot glass made of ice and he pushes it towards you.  "I present, a Screaming Blue Viking.  On the house for such a beautiful, chilly maiden."  He winks.

You can’t help but snort, your cheeks flaming at his compliment.  Your fingertips tingle with cold as you raise the ice glass to your lips, admiring the way the ice frosts over and the drink seems to glow from the inside.  You don’t look at him as you take the shot, tilting your head back to get the dregs and exposing your neck to him.  The alcohol burns down your throat and curls warmly in your belly.

He’s watching you with an unreadable expression when you lower the ice back to the bar.

"What?" you ask warily, wondering if you had spilled some of the shot down your shirt.

"I was just thinking," he murmured, leaning so close to you that you can feel his warm breath.  "That you swallowed that very easily.  What else can you swallow, I wonder?"

You shudder at the not-at-all subtle innuendo said in that throaty low voice.  You shift on your stool, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the heat between your legs in the cold air.  God, but he’s the sexiest thing you’ve seen all year.  The shot is going to your head fast and you feel bold and sexy yourself.

You start to flirt with him, not making any attempt to be subtle.  His name is Loki, you find out.  A mysterious name to go with a handsome stranger.  He’s quick with the puns and innuendo, making you laugh and squirm on your stool while he makes drinks.  You have a few more of those Blue Vikings he’s so good at making, your brain delightfully fuzzy.

You check your cell for the time and sigh.  “I think they kick me out of here in a few minutes.  I guess they don’t want to get sued over one of their patrons getting a little frostbite.”

He laughs.  “Are you not afraid of frostbite, pretty?”  He bares his teeth at you and pretends to bite.  “My shift is over then too.  Can’t have the bartenders suing over frostbite.”  He takes the lid off the shaker and pulls an icy shot glass in front of him. 

The way he raises his arm high and precisely pours the liquor from the shaker is so practiced, so casual, and so strangely sexual that you find yourself saying, “Want to come back to my place?” before you stop to think.

"I thought you’d never ask, pretty," he purrs, pushing the shot towards you.

You down it in one long glug for some liquid courage before you continue.  “I’m staying at the hotel at the corner.  Room 131.”  On a whim, you wink at him as you slide off your stool. 

"I’ll see you there," Loki promises, running his tongue over his lips.

Before long, you’re pacing your hotel room nervously.  You take off your tall boots, wiggling your toes on the carpet, trying to relax while you wait for Loki.  You squeak and nearly jump out of your skin at the knock on the door.

You open it to find Loki leaning casually against the jam, arms crossed over his chest, one ankle crossed over the other.  He smiles at you, standing up straight.

"Hi!  Um.  Come in.  Do you want something to drink?" you ask awkwardly, ushering him inside.  You wander back into the room from the entry way, wishing you had another Blue Viking right about now.

Loki is behind you suddenly, grabbing your hips and pulling you back against him before you make it more than a few steps.  “Yes,” he growls in your ear.  “But it’s not something from the mini bar I had in mind.” 

One hand slides slowly from your hip to the zipper of your jeans, cupping your mound through the cloth.  His hand is warm and his mouth is warmer as he trails wet kisses down your neck, tongue tickling delicate skin.  His other hand moves to undo the button and zipper with deft fingers.

You groan, tilting your head to the side to expose more skin for his mouth to dance over.  He bites carefully under your ear, sucking until you shudder, the sensation trickling down your spine to swirl heavily between your legs.  You can feel his smile on your neck as he nudges you towards the bed, his cock hard against your ass.

He spins you suddenly, yanking down your pants to your ankles in one swift motion.  He kisses you, slow and deep and delicious, distracting you before he pushes you off balance.  You giggle as you topple on to the bed- even more when he pulls the jeans completely off and lifts your legs over his shoulders as he kneels.

"Loki!" you gasp.  "You just got here-"

His tongue drags up your slit, accompanied by a quiet, hungry growl.  Your head drops back to the mattress, your eyes rolling shut, protest dying on your lips.  His mouth is everywhere, sucking on your lips, pushing inside you, fluttering over your clit.  Wet and warm and teasing, bringing you so close to the edge only to pull back when your breathing quickens and your muscles tense.  Over and over he teases you, taunts you, coaxing out your uninhibited lust.

You bury your fingers in his long hair, tugging his face closer.  You can feel his chuckle vibrating through you and you growl yourself, your body fed up with his game.  Your hips rise from the bed, pressing against his tongue with abandon.

"You are exquisite," he growls into your folds.  "Ride my mouth, pretty, come undone for me."

Loki swipes two fingers along your pussy, slicking them up before plunging them inside you in one strong motion.  You arch towards him and then farther still as he presses them against your g-spot.  You keen, a high-pitched, breathy sound as he works you higher and higher, his long fingers deep inside you carrying you closer to that elusive peak…

Stars explode behind your eyelids, your breath frozen as your body seizes, every nerve blazing with beautiful fire.  Your thighs press against Loki’s head, your fingers tight in his hair.  Slowly, so slowly, you relax, arms falling limply to your sides.  You feel boneless, your eyes glazed, but Loki is already getting to his feet, shedding his clothes and revealing his chiseled, slim body.

You prop yourself up to admire him.  Pale skin, long torso, legs that go on forever.  And between those legs… his cock is proud, hard, pressed up against his stomach, dark curls framing the base.  You lick your lips unconsciously and he smirks at you, not at all embarrassed about being buck naked.

"Do you want a taste, pretty?"  He stalks you, crawling over your body as you scoot back on the bed.  He pauses to kiss you, long and sweet, letting you taste yourself on his lips.  Then he moves to straddle your chest, palming his erection and stroking it above you.  "Well?"

"God, yes," you swear and lift your head to lick what you can reach.  He moans and shifts, pressing the tip against your lips.  You let him slide inside, swirling your tongue around and over the sensitive head.  He tastes of ice and salt and clean skin, velvety soft until it’s slick with your saliva.  He rocks gently, groaning as he threads his fingers into your hair.  You suck hard and fast, then ease back to teasing him, never staying in a rhythm long, loving the way he’s panting and moaning above you.

With a desperate bark, he pulls away, staring down at you.  “Ohh… that is one wicked mouth you have, pretty.”  He scoots down your body, resting between your legs.  He watches as you pull your t-shirt over your head and his face splits into a huge grin when he sees your green and black bra.

"Green.  How did you know that’s my favorite color?" he purrs.  He reaches under you and unhooks it, pulling it off you and throwing it over his shoulder.  He takes a nipple in his mouth just as he presses inside you.

You wrap your legs around his waist, gasping as he sucks hard on your nipple, his fingers plucking at the other until it’s hard and aching.  You arch beneath him, drawing him deeper into you and making him groan.

"So hot and wet," he whispers, his head dropping on your chest briefly, his breath hitching.  "So slick and slippery for me."  He grinds deep, pressing his pubic bone on your clit.

You use your legs for leverage, lifting up, taking him farther until he growls.  “Oh, pet, that feels amazing.”

Soon you find your rhythm together, push and pull, drag and thrust, grind and slide.  Slow at first, savoring the feel of each other- his smooth skin beaded with sweat, his silken hair brushing feather-light on your breasts, his sculpted ass flexing with each thrust under your calves.

He picks up speed, your body demanding  _more now harder_  as you writhe under him, undulating, twisting, seeking the perfect angle.  You whine when you find it, your spine bowing as pure sensation dances into your brain.  His name falls from your lips in a litany, setting the pace, the sound getting higher and breather with each deep plunge of his body into yours.

You and Loki cry out together, his hips stuttering against yours, your body arching beneath his.  Complete unity for a brilliant, beautiful moment, joined by swirling stars and floating sounds and a brief blissful _nothingness_.

You open your eyes, smiling at the man lying next to you.  You snuggle closer to him, humming a little.  He cracks an eye open.

"Was that what you were hoping for?"

"Mm.  ‘Doing the bartender’ fantasy?  Definitely as amazing as I’d imagined," you assure him.

"Good."  He closes his eye and rolls onto his back, tucking you under his arm.

"I still can’t believe you chose to work at an ice bar, Loki.  I know you never get cold, but still."  You shiver at the memory of the temperature.

"Well, I’ve always got you to warm me up when I get home…"


End file.
